


Not the Future We Were Looking For (or, Adventures in Augmented Reality)

by irisbleufic



Series: One Step Away 'Verse (& Related Excursions) [12]
Category: Back to the Future (Movies)
Genre: Characters Playing Pokemon GO, Cute Kids, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family, Games, M/M, Multi, Old Married Couple, Older Characters, Pokemon GO References, Pokemon GO Shenanigans, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8507332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “DocELB, huh?” Marty asked, grinning, indicating Doc's nickname.  “Can other players see that?”





	

**July 15, 2016**

Marty was lounging in bed while Doc showered, enjoying one of his last free mornings before the second session of his summer music workshop started on Monday. Normally, he wouldn't have risen to BuzzFeed clickbait, but [_29 of the Funniest Tweets About Pokémon Go_](https://www.buzzfeed.com/jennaguillaume/gotta-tweet-em-all) caught his eye because he remembered Tiff's kids had been into some kind of Pokémon card game.

Although #11 ( _Pokémon Go is already more popular than Tinder, another app where you swipe to find monsters in your area_ ) made Marty snort, he was still no closer to understanding what this iteration of the game actually was. Just then, Doc wandered in from the bathroom: naked under his open dressing-gown, vigorously toweling his hair. Marty lowered his iPhone, enjoying the view.

“Hey, Doc,” he said, beckoning as Doc dropped the towel and came around to sit beside him on the mattress. “D'you know anything about this Pokémon thing that's taking the internet by storm? You've been so glued to your phone for the past week or so that I thought maybe you'd have read the scoop.”

Doc drew his legs up onto the bed, scooting until he sat up against the pillows with Marty. He coughed in such a way that indicated guilt, although Marty couldn't for the life of him imagine _why_.

“It's a fascinating diversion, certainly,” Doc said, fetching his own phone from the nightstand, “and a much better incentive than any FitBit or similar step-tracker. I've already hatched a number of eggs.”

“Eggs?” Marty echoed, wondering what kind of experiment would require Doc to fill the garage with baby birds or reptiles. “How many eggs are we talking? I swear to you, I'm not gonna feed—”

“Pokémon eggs,” Doc clarified, sweeping through screens on his phone, pointing at the image of a green-spotted egg rocking back and forth in what looked like a food processor. “They come in two-kilometer, five-kilometer, and ten-kilometer variants. You need to stick them in these incubators and walk the required distance. Marie enjoys how much more frequently I've been taking her out.”

“Huh,” Marty said, taking Doc's phone out of his hand, tapping the green _X_ below Doc's halfway-to-hatched five-kilometer egg. It took him to a whole screenful eggs, three of which were incubating. “So this is like...what, an app version of the Game Boy stuff and the trading cards?”

“More than that,” said Doc, closing the egg-screen to reveal a tiny figure pacing back and forth on a gridded landscape that Marty could recognize, after a few seconds of squinting, as Hilldale. “When monsters appear, you tap on them, and your camera boots up AR mode. This means it looks like they're right in front of you, wherever you are. You can turn that off, though, if catching them against the pre-set game backdrop is easier. See these blue signposts up the street? When you get close enough, they bloom into rotating discs. They're called PokéStops. Provided your bag's not full, each spin will give you a selection of items: Poké Balls, reviving and healing potions, berries, and eggs.”

“AR mode?” Marty echoed, still trying to crack the acronym, let alone the rest of it. “English, Doc.”

“Augmented reality,” Doc replied, demonstrating how to rotate player orientation, zoom in and out, and check on level and experience points. “So named because it looks as if the Pokémon are right in your environment.” He tapped through a few achievement medals before closing his player-profile window.

“What's with all the blue and yellow clothes on your avatar?” Marty asked, taking the phone away from him again, tapping back into the profile screen. “Are those team colors or something?”

“You can dress in any colors you wish, irrespective of which team you choose at Level 5,” Doc said. “Blue for Mystic, red for Valor, yellow for Instinct. I considered the latter, but went Mystic.”

“DocELB, huh?” Marty asked, grinning, indicating Doc's nickname. “Can other players see that?”

“In gyms and when you set lures on PokéStops, yes,” Doc said, suddenly more interested in running his fingers through Marty's atrocious bed-head than in continuing the tutorial. “I don't doubt you'll learn more about this game from Tiff and Ellie and the kids. And your students, come Monday.”

Marty tossed Doc's phone aside, jumping when it landed on his own in the rumpled bedclothes. “I never had a chance in hell at keeping them off their phones in the first place. _Perfect_.” He tugged his phone out from under Doc's, glancing through the rest of the article while Doc nuzzled his temple. He pointed at #17 and tapped Doc on the wrist. “Promise me this won't be us?”

 _What idiot decided to call it “Pokémon Go” instead of “the end of my marriage”?_ Doc frowned at the tweet, reading it several times over before placing his phone and Marty's on the nightstand.

“I'd rather drive you wild all weekend than catch more Rattatas,” he murmured, kissing Marty's ear.

“Deal,” Marty sighed, shifting to accommodate Doc's weight against him. “Who knows, maybe I'll download it next week to see what the fuss is about. The couple that plays together stays together?”

“Only if you promise me you have no intention of joining Valor,” Doc murmured against Marty's neck.

“Whatever _that_ means,” Marty sighed, running his fingers through Doc's damp hair. “Nerd.”

 

**July 23, 2016**

“Goddamn it,” Marty said, almost dropping his phone as he watched the Zubat vanish in a puff of dust. “It's like they know I can't throw for shit, and they let me catch them a few times before running.”

Julian dashed over, winding Marie's leash around his wrist so she'd keep up. “Don't forget to feed the tough ones Razz Berries,” he said, peering over Marty's arm. “You _are_ doing that, right?”

“No, because I keep having to get rid of them to make room for more Poké Balls!” Marty protested.

Shaking his head, Julian unclipped Marie's leash from her collar and let her tear off across the square.

“Just buy a couple of Bag Upgrades, _seriously_ ,” he said, tugging his phone out of the back pocket of his shorts. He flipped through screens, showing Marty how to get to the shop. “If my moms let me do it, I bet Doc wouldn't care at all. He's, like...more into it than me and Suz, even!”

“You're telling me,” Marty said, watching Marie trot up to Doc and Susanna, who were standing next to the _WELCOME TO HILL VALLEY_ sign. It was a PokéStop, and one of them had set a lure.

“Easy, girl,” Doc said distractedly, bending to scratch behind the Border Collie's ear, his eyes never once leaving his phone. “You almost cost me that Doduo, you rascal, yes you _did_.”

“Doc! _Doc_!” Susanna shrieked, tugging on Doc's arm. “Rapidash at twelve o'clock! C'mon!”

Marty caught himself grinning as he watched Doc take over control of Susanna's phone just long enough to make the capture in only two or three tosses. He'd noticed that some of the monsters were more difficult to catch than others; both evolutions of the fire-horses and bats were high on that list. 

Julian tore off to get in on the action, jumping up and down in response to the discovery of high CP.

Catching Marty's eye, Doc handed Susanna's phone back to her and left the children to chase whatever else had turned up. Marie kept close on their heels, blocking them from dashing past the hedges onto the sidewalk, as she'd been trained to do. Marty held his phone out to Doc, smiling with chagrin.

“There's an Eevee,” he said. “Wanna catch it just like you did with my first two? They like to run.”

Doc shook his head in mock-consternation, tucking his phone in his back pocket before taking Marty's. “I've heard there's a naming hack, as far as controlling which of the three evolutions they'll take. Would you agree to test it out for me, seeing as I only have one of these little devils myself?”

“Hurry up and catch this one for me, and then catch it yourself,” Marty suggested, watching Doc make impressively short work of the task. “Then you'll have two. But sure, how does it work? Can I change the names to whatever I want once they've evolved? You know I like naming them what _I_ want to name them. Right now, my Eevees are Copernicus and Einstein. I was toying with the idea of calling this new one Huey. Is that over the top?”

“Here,” Doc muttered, handing Marty back his phone, retrieving his own from his pocket in a hurry. “You're now the proud owner of three Eevees. Do me the favor of renaming them Rainer, Sparky, and Pyro. Once you've got enough candies, you can supposedly evolve them into Vaporeon, Jolteon, and Flareon respectively. Susanna says it's a shame there's no option for Umbreon in the game just yet.”

“Hey, thanks,” Marty said, watching the familiar medal-flip on his screen. “I just leveled up to 5!”

Doc dropped what he was doing, letting the Eevee escape, and ushered Marty over to the courthouse steps so that the Valor-held gym there spun open. “Go in,” he urged, taking a seat beside Marty on the steps. “You can choose your team now. Selfishly, I'd like to see you go blue, _but_ —”

“No way!” Susanna shouted. “Red's the best! Me and Mom are red, Mommy is blue, and this butthead here—” she gave Julian a shove between the shoulder blades “—is a yellow _chicken_!”

Somehow, Marty wasn't surprised to hear Tiff had gone Valor and Ellie had gone Mystic. They were presently at home having a quiet evening to themselves, grateful to have someone else take the kids hunting on a Saturday afternoon. Marty had even resigned himself to hunting with his music-workshop students, mostly seventh and eighth graders, on the half-hour lunch break they took each day.

Julian shoved Susanna back, knocking her over in the grass. “It's like Mommy says—you do you, so I did me! Besides, I'd rather be a chicken than a butthead, because all the biggest buttheads are Valor!”

Marty considered the silhouettes on the screen. He knew a little about the values associated with each team thanks to Doc's briefings and a few judicious web-searches so he'd come off as knowledgeable to his students. He tapped one of them, turning his phone outward so Doc could see his choice.

“Looks like you aren't alone anymore, Jules,” Doc said. “Now, help your sister back up, all right?”

“Uncle Marty's yellow?” asked Susanna, taking her brother's hand, yanking him to the ground instead of letting him help her up. “That means our family has two on each team, right? _Heavy_.”

Marty shook his head as the kids' scuffle devolved into a wrestling match. Marie joined in, nosing at hands and ankles, nipping lightly at elbows. She barked when Julian caught her around the neck.

Doc took Marty's free hand. “Tiff and Suz, you and Jules, Ellie and me. We can have a tournament.”

“ _Yooo_!” Julian shrieked, overjoyed. “I just got a 10k egg off that spin! Sucks to be you guys!”

“First to jointly fill the Pokédex? First to catch a Lapras?” Marty asked, grinning wryly. “We'll see.”

 

**August 12, 2016**

Marty stopped and set his guitar across his lap, giving the music room a once-over. Of fifteen students, only half were making a concentrated effort to get through the chord sequence he'd just played. Several had phones planted on their knees or thighs, eyes fixed on a familiar blue-green background.

“Stop, that's enough,” he announced, satisfied to see fifteen pairs of eyes snap to attention. “I know it's five till two on a Friday and we're ready to get outta here, but you've _got_ to pay attention.”

Abigail raised her hand. At a nod from Marty, she said, “Mr. McFly, Jaycee just caught an Omanyte.”

Instead of saying what he ought to have said—something along the lines of _That's not important, because this is your last session till I see you guys in September_ —Marty blurted, “Where?”

“Right here!” Jaycee confirmed, holding her phone up just as the creature registered in her Pokédex.

“Fine,” Marty said, tugging his phone out of his breast pocket. “Catch it if you can, and then put the guitars away.” He could already tell this was going to be a Great Ball kind of job. “Class dismissed.”

Ten minutes later, he locked up, exited the building, and found Tiff waiting for him in Ellie's Jetta.

“Doc told me your truck's still in the shop,” she said, rolling down her window. “He sends his apologies for not being able to pick you up himself. Hop in.” She squinted. “Whatcha catchin'?”

“Omanyte,” Marty said, sliding into the passenger side, loosening his tie. “By the skin of my teeth.”

“Dang, they must've rotated out the Pikachu nest,” Tiff said, checking her app. “I need to level this little bastard up and evolve him ASAP, but how am I supposed to do that without candy?”

“Find a new nest, I guess?” Marty ventured, admiring his new capture's stats. He named it Sylvia.

“Put down your phone, dude,” said Tiff, starting up the car. “If I can't hit PokéStops en route, neither can you. And anyway, I'm not taking you straight home. I wanna show you something cool.”

“I don't think we're capable of doing _anything_ straight, but okay,” Marty agreed. “I'll bite.”

“Ha ha,” Tiff said, laying on her horn at the slow-driving parent in front of them. “Fuckin' smart-ass.”

Marty kept his mouth shut for the remainder of the ride, so lulled by the familiarity of the route that he didn't even realize where they were until the Burger King was in sight. Tiff pulled into the parking lot, driving until she could pull into a parking space that afforded them full view of Doc's former residence.

“Shame the company that bought it off him all those years ago never did anything with it,” said Tiff, snagging her phone out of the cup-holder, “but check _this_ out. It might be derelict, but...”

Marty opened his app, blinking in dismay. Doc's old garage was currently a Level 4 Mystic-held gym.

“I sometimes come over here just to boot the posers,” Tiff said, smirking, thumb already on the fight icon. “You can train at least till I get 'em outta there, how about that? What level are you, anyway?”

“Thirteen,” Marty said, opting instead to catch the Pidgey that had just popped up. He needed stardust.

“Just think if we'd had smart-phones back in the day,” Tiff sighed, unleashing her Exeggutor's special attack on an especially feisty Arcanine. “We could've played together, me and you and Doc.”

“We play together now,” Marty said, surreptitiously trading the Pidgey off for candy. “It's enough.”

“I mean, shit, we finally got hoverboards, too, but they don't resemble the one you guys nabbed in alternate-2015,” said Tiff, glumly, moving on to her third battle. “They're fire hazards.”

“I'm kinda glad hoverboards like mine aren't everywhere,” Marty admitted. “They're dangerous, too.”

“Skater boy,” Tiff teased, making a face at the Snorlax that was crushing her final contender. “You lie.”

“Nah, I'm serious,” Marty sighed, scanning their section of JFK for lures. “You should've seen the spill those punks took. I'm glad your family didn't end up producing Griff. You really dodged a bullet.”

“One of my brothers might end up with a kid who gets that nickname,” Tiff cautioned. “Damn!”

“You lost, huh?” Marty asked, peering over her shoulder. “Ellie and Doc are forces to be reckoned with, so I don't see why the other Mystics in this town should be any different.”

“Tell me about it,” Tiff sighed. “I'm only at Level 15, and El's up there at 18 or something like that.”

“Doc hit 20 a couple days ago,” Marty said, putting down his phone. “How d'you think _I_ feel?”

“Did Jules text you about what popped outta that 10k?” Tiff asked, starting up the car. “Couldn't believe it. Suz has been sore about it for days, and she hasn't had anything above 5k in weeks.”

“Yep,” replied Marty, proudly, poking Tiff in the shoulder. “Looks like we beat you to a Lapras.”

Without warning, Tiff swiped Marty's phone out of his lap. “How're those pussies coming along?”

“Eevees are serious business, FYI,” said Marty, watching her eyes go slightly round as she checked the stats on Marty's Vaporeon and Flareon respectively. “I figure I'll have enough candy to evolve my Jolteon within a week or two. There's an Eevee nest right next to my parents' house.”

“Lemme guess,” Tiff retorted, tossing his phone back at him. “Doc talked you into naming that Pikachu Jigawatt? If not, you're an even bigger nerd than he is. Love that your Flareon's called Einstein, though,” she sighed. “I miss that mutt so much. Marie's sweet, but it's just...”

“Is Copernicus a good name for the Vaporeon, or should I call him Huey and save Copernicus for the Jolteon?” Marty asked, keen to change the subject. He couldn't dwell on Einstein without tearing up.

“Huey's just the kind of name a yellow dweeb like you would give a Jolteon,” said Tiff. “It fits.”

Marty swiped Tiff's phone in retaliation. “This from somebody whose Slowbro is named Slacker?”

“Had to give ol' Strickland a nod somehow,” Tiff said, shrugging, edging out into traffic. “I miss...”

“I miss everyone we've lost, too,” replied Marty, quietly, pushing off their shared impending dread.

 

**September 17, 2016**

Marty shifted on the sofa, unfolding his legs, placing a _90%_ in purple ink at the top of the latest music theory quiz in his stack. It was Sunday afternoon, and he was behind on marking. The reason he was behind rested next to him on the cushion, his avatar wandering within an aimless, automatic limited radius of the house. He'd figured out he could slowly rack up distance if he let it sit.

In the armchairs across the coffee table from him, Doc and Ellie, who were meant to be drawing up a panel proposal for the next con they were both attending in the spring, were blowing incense after incense and crowing about their captures. They weren't doing much for Marty's focus.

“How the fuck are you at Level 26?” Ellie demanded, squirming in her chair to get a better angle on the Slowpoke that had just appeared on Marty's stack of papers, to both her amusement and Doc's.

Doc shrugged, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, in order to snag the monster in half the time it took Ellie. “Judicious application of Lucky Eggs to mass evolutions and hatching streaks.”

“Clearly you don't have kids running around the house,” Ellie muttered. “I'm stuck on Level 24.”

“Two levels behind,” Marty retorted, doling out an _88%_. “What's the world coming to?”

“I'd like to hear where you are right about now, loser,” said Ellie, smugly. “Instinct, my _ass_.”

“Level 22,” Marty said, setting aside the last few papers in order to check his phone. “Hey! Eevee.”

“Not bad,” Doc remarked, casting Marty a reassuring glance to counterbalance Ellie's aspersions. “You haven't been relying on bait like we have. How's the trio doing? Have you been powering up?”

“Got the Vaporeon at almost 2000 CP, but it's gonna take me forever to get the other two past 1000,” Marty replied, thumping the edge of the coffee table with his foot as the Eevee broke loose again. “Between the three of 'em, they burn way too much stardust and candy. Bitchin' attacks, though.”

“My Vaporeons are doing just fine, but I'll never get the Flareon and Jolteon up to code at this rate,” said Doc, shaking his head. “Have you told Ellie about your unusual approach?”

“I don't keep ones I don't want,” Marty said, relieved to find the Eevee stayed right where he'd put it on his third try. “Too much clutter.” He traded it for an additional piece of candy. “Why's that unusual?”

“Because your hubby's got like 300 carefully-organized critters, and here you are with like...twelve rag-tag weirdos that you don't level up according to any logic I've _ever_ seen,” Ellie teased.

“I don't battle or train as often as you guys,” Marty said. “Why don't you mind your own business?”

“My son plays more and more like you every day,” Ellie told him. “Same level and all. Uncanny.”

“Listen, we won the Lapras thing fair and square,” Marty said, bringing up his roster so he could pull off the big reveal. “Meet Champ. Hatched yesterday. He's just a baby, but he's going places.”

“ _Damn_ ,” Doc said in admiration. “Only two in our whole group. Those are impressive odds.”

“Are you gonna keep naming them after lake monsters? Jules called his Nessie, no joke,” said Ellie.

“Doubt I'll get another,” Marty said, admiring the Lapras one more time before resuming his papers.

 

**October 29, 2016**

“You sure you're gonna be okay, Doc?” Marty asked, dimming the lights. “It might get noisy downstairs.” He was hesitant to leave Doc's side, but he knew the doorbell would start to ring.

“Just a headache,” Doc insisted, patting Marty's hand against his chest. “I'll rest it off. Pulled one too many late nights writing this week, is all.” He shifted against the pillow, his brow furrowing.

“Listen, I know you're doing great for your age, and I know that you know it, too,” Marty sighed, bending to kiss Doc's forehead. “But for God's _sake_ , Doc. You've gotta take it easy.”

Near Marty's pillow, which was unoccupied, Doc's phone buzzed and lit up. Marty swiped it out from under the edge of the pillowcase before Doc could manage it. He caught the Rattata and turned it off.

“I'm only gonna leave this in case you need to text me for something,” Marty sighed. “No playing.”

Doc shook his head, eyes squeezed shut. “Don't think I'd be able to throw worth a damn right now.”

“Caught you some vermin, anyway,” Marty said, stroking Doc's cheek, setting the phone on the nightstand. “Gotta get downstairs before any trick-or-treaters decide to toilet-paper us or something.”

Doc nodded, waving one hand aimlessly in the direction of the door. “Knock 'em dead, Future Boy.”

“I'm not even in costume,” Marty reminded him, heading for the door with reluctance. “Not really.”

“If you ask me,” said Doc, his breath evening as if he might sleep, “you're the best version of yourself.”

The doorbell didn't ring for another ten minutes, which gave Marty time to clear the staircase and make sure he had enough bowls of assorted mini chocolate bars at the ready. He opened the door to find several very welcome suspects lurking on the front porch, overwhelmed at the memory of Biff, Tiff, and her younger brothers turning up on Halloween night in 1985. Times _had_ changed.

“Before you ask whose idea this was,” said Biff, adjusting his Team Valor trainer's cap, tapping the door-jamb with his cane, “the answer is _not mine_. These buttheads have got it coming.”

“Whatever, Gramps,” said Susanna, twirling to show off her Clefairy costume. “Trick or treat!”

Julian looked less sure of himself, but he made an adorable Charmander. “Yeah. What she said.”

“Well, look at you,” Biff said, eyeing Marty up and down. “Amazing that stuff still fits, especially the jacket. Then again, you always were a scrawny little punk. Clever as hell, too. Trick or treat, McFly?”

“Whoever pulled the trick that got you in that outfit deserves every treat I've got,” said Marty, grinning.

 

**November 7, 2016**

“Well, Doc,” Marty sighed, tossing his phone down on the coffee table. “I surrender. I'm at Level 26, you're at Level 30, and I'm never gonna catch up to you now. It's not even worth the effort.”

“You've got a fighting chance to keep up with the kids,” Doc reminded him, giving Marie a thorough rub-down so she'd settle quietly at their feet. He sank back against the sofa, effortlessly letting Marty curl into his embrace. “As it stands, you and Jules still have what the rest of us so desperately want.”

“I don't know,” Marty said. “Ever since Suz hatched that Aerodactyl, Laprases seem out of fashion.”

Doc shrugged, tucking Marty's head beneath his chin. “I haven't got either one. What does that say?”

“You've got a Porygon with like 1600 CP,” Marty reminded him. “You held a gym for two weeks.”

“Albert may not be my best fighter, but he's certainly a curiosity,” Doc agreed. “The gym was luck.”

“It was your old place,” replied Marty, softly, taking Doc's phone away from him, “so I'd call it fate.”

“Fate's whatever you love enough to hold onto,” Doc said. “And work on, monsters or otherwise.”

Marty snorted against Doc's shoulder. “Who _knows_ how much stardust I've spent on us by now.”

“As much as I have, although your timing and discernment are superior. Slow and steady wins the race.”

“I won't be kicking you and Ellie out of the courthouse any time soon, so I don't know what you're talking about,” Marty grumbled, switching on the television for all of thirty seconds. “Yikes.”

“The election coverage is...too close for comfort,” Doc admitted. “Not the future we were looking for.”

“No, but give me apps that make strangers smile at each other any day,” Marty said. “And _you_ , Doc.”


End file.
